


Each Day You Come Closer

by katabasis (aphorat)



Category: BUCK-TICK
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-07 14:30:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14673072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphorat/pseuds/katabasis
Summary: Atsushi is alone, right up until he isn't.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Rating may go up in later chapters.

Atsushi enters his second year of high school and he's alone. Most of his former friends have traded uniforms for leather jackets and low-paying grunt work in the same construction outfit his father works at, and he would rather slouch through another lonely year of school than work there with him. And if his former friends haven't found work, they've found the backs of police cars, and that's even less appealing than the idea of following in his father's footsteps.

And so he's alone, right up until he isn't. One of his few remaining friends drags him along to a classmate's after school one evening, and something about Imai Hisashi sets him alight like a brush fire. Hisashi, and the circle of friends surrounding him, are a group unlike any other he's grown close to, and they don't take advantage of his timidity the way his former friends once did. They introduce Atsushi to new music, books, anime: anything flashy with just the right amount of acerbic social commentary for a teenager to latch onto. He's still alone at home, with his older brother distant but proud and his parents caught in their usual turbulence, but he hangs onto those moments at Hisashi's, keeps them guarded in the back of his mind as he shuts himself in his room.

He eases into this new camaraderie slowly, still sitting at home when invited out more often than not but forcing himself to reply to texts with more consistency than he might have once. He enjoys his alone time, when he can allow himself to think and feel things without the scrutiny of his family, teachers or classmates—but eventually he starts seeking out Hisashi of his own accord, coming around to his shop on weekends and tucking himself into a corner with an iced tea and a manga anthology. Hisashi leans over his shoulder as he reads, providing commentary and pointing out his favorite and least favorite parts, and Atsushi finds he doesn't mind the weight of him, warm and angular against his shoulder.

Although he finds himself at ease at the corner store with his friends, at school Atsushi is as withdrawn as ever, quiet and wholly unremarkable in a desk to the back of the room. He'll answer when called on, but doesn't engage in class discussion, preferring to observe or daydream as it suits him. Hisashi, who sits in the next row over, behaves much the same during their lessons, ducking into the classroom late and packing up early whenever he can get away with it.

Despite his unapproachable demeanor he manages to capture the attentions of girls in his grade, who rarely speak to him but stare when he passes them by in the hallway, out of the corners of their eyes or behind the stacks of books in their arms. They rarely speak to him but Atsushi finds himself, sometimes, tucked away with one in stairwells or alleyways after school, soft beneath his hands and just as quiet as when they're observing him in the halls. He's attentive and kind at those times but he leaves them afterward without so much as a phone number, and he feels guilty but knows he'd feel worse if he led them on, promised more of himself than he could give.

Despite the briefness of those encounters he remains well-liked by the girls in his class, at least superficially, and on Valentine's Day his locker practically overflows—and his friends all snicker as they surround him, picking up chocolates and trying to analyze the handwriting on their accompanying notes. Hisashi's grin is a little sharp that day when he observes the contents of his locker, his comments perhaps a little more cutting; but he reaches out to ruffle Atsushi's hair with a laugh anyway, and admits through gritted teeth that he's deserving of the attention.

Atsushi rolls his eyes and offers him chocolate in handfuls, too flustered by the amount of valentines to keep them all. He can see the frowns of lingering girls as he does so, but only shrugs and says he doesn't want the sweets to go to waste. Hisashi walks home with him that afternoon, unwrapping red and pink chocolates with a self-satisfied grin that mystifies Atsushi, and pauses before they part ways, tapping him once on the arm.

"Wait a sec'," he says in his usual unimpassioned tones, "we still need to figure out a time to go to that museum, remember?" They'd been talking about it over the weekend, a nice thought to entertain, but Atsushi never thought Hisashi would actually take him up on it. He pauses on the sidewalk and turns, brow furrowed.

"Um," he begins, unpocketing his phone and peering down at the calendar. He never has anything written in it, but sometimes the days blur together and he has to remind himself, even with the holiday to serve as a marker. "I guess Sunday would be fine, if they aren't closed." He hopes they aren't; Sunday is the only day of this week his father is routinely home, and the day drags longer for it. "Ah, unless that doesn't work for you—we can do what you want."

Hisashi shakes his head, shutting down Atsushi's habitual acquiescence. "They're open on Sunday, and if that's what works for you than it works for me too. Meet me at the station at ten," he says, turning around to make his way but pausing, peering back once more with his lips twisted in a half-grin. "Ah, make that noon," he amends, and Atsushi laughs because he knows Hisashi waking up that early on a Sunday was an impossibility anyway. "And thanks for these," he adds, holding up his crumpled candy wrappers, and his grin only widens as Atsushi mumbles _don't remind me_.

They take the train to Takasaki at noon that Sunday, and Atsushi is grateful for the comfortable silence they fall into while wandering through the art museum's galleries. It's nice, being able to either talk with Hisashi or not say anything for long minutes on end, and soon he finds himself going on more outings with the other boy, close to home but far enough away that every trip feels like an escape. There's an astronomical observatory in March and during the first weeks of summer they go to Insect World—which turns out to be a lot more fun than they expected, and soon they return when the butterflies are emerging and fluttering throughout the greenhouse.

Being with him spreads a warmth throughout his body he doesn't understand quite yet, foreign in its tenderness until it simmers into something hotter. He'll meet with girls on weekends before Hisashi's slumped his way out of bed, press his fingers into their hips with a little more force and leave marks on their neck that they have to cover up with concealer afterward. His eyes are hooded when Hisashi meets his gaze at the train station, and there's a cigarette between his fingers that dampens the buzzing of his nerves. They go on outings and it's still nice, but the silence stretches a little thin now because Atsushi doesn't trust himself to speak.

He'll text Hisashi afterwards though, when he's back in his room with the curtains drawn and lights dimmed low. Hisashi will respond in fragments, or sometimes not at all—until he's asleep, that is, and then he sends him sentence upon sentence of the things he noticed and enjoyed. It makes Atsushi smile when he reads them in the morning, and when the other boy is there waiting for him outside the school gates, that makes him smile too.


	2. Chapter 2

It's a little bit pathetic, the way Atsushi keeps himself closed off even when he realizes his feelings are, to some extent, reciprocated. The weight of Hisashi rests heavy on him when they listen to music on the bridge near his family's shop, almost cheek to cheek as they share the older boy's earbuds. It's comfortable at first, legs knocking together as they hang off the edge, but the intimacy leaves him reeling afterwards, short of breath and restless in his bedroom. Some nights all he can do is think of the light pressure of Hisashi's hand when it catches his wrist, fingertips searing like a brand when he pulls Atsushi further through a museum exhibit or down the aisle of a record shop in town.

He channels his frustrations into girls from other schools and sometimes boys as well, but it leaves him feeling hollow and selfish, a bitterness in the back of his throat. He keeps Hisashi in the dark about those occurrences but the other boy is more perceptive than he lets on—and so there are days where he won't look his friend in the eye, regardless of his proximity and the lingering touches against his shoulder or his knee. Eventually though, something snaps in him and he stops seeing those other students, holes up in his room and drops off his friends' radar with too much ease. They still see each other at school but he's prickly, and their conversations in the hallways remain brief. He sees the others exchange looks, sometimes, concern and confusion that only makes him feel more guilty, but when they invite him out after class he shakes his head, muttering a poor excuse about homework he knows no one will believe.

"Fine," Hisashi replies, short, and his eyes narrow something sharp when he gathers his things and follows Atsushi out the door. "We can do homework together, then," he says in unrelenting tones, and Atsushi frowns at that but allows himself to be followed down the street.

The walk home is quiet, tense, and Atsushi wishes he'd brought his headphones just for the distraction. He has no intention of doing his homework, and Hisashi must know as much—they both complete just enough to scrape by, and neither of them show signs of changing that. He just wants to be alone, away from this person he's harboring feelings for; because there's no way Hisashi could ever feel the same, and he'd rather stifle those feelings now, before they develop into something that aches even more.

They're a few blocks away from Atsushi's house when he turns to face the other boy, palms of his hands damp and crammed deep into the pockets of his trousers. "Look," he says, a harsh exhale as Hisashi glances over at him, "I'm not going to do my homework, and I don't think you are either. You don't have to walk me home, Hisashi."

"I think I do," Hisashi counters, careful and measured but with a quiet intensity. His gaze is razor-sharp as it rakes over his classmate, and to Atsushi it's like being beneath a microscope, something small and insignificant to be examined by the unfathomable. "You barely talk anymore and you go out with me even less. Just tell me what happened, and I'll try to help." The way he ends the sentence makes it sounds more like a question, and he pauses to take a step closer before adding, softly this time. "Don't act like I haven't noticed. Something's wrong, Atsushi."

_Of course something's wrong_ , he thinks as he stares at the boy in front of him, _I'm in love with you. I'm in love with you and there's no way you could love me back_. Atsushi's hands withdraw from his pockets then, shaking as they reach out to the lapels of Hisashi's uniform jacket and draw him in close. "Yes," he agrees, almost thoughtful around his nervousness, and pulls the other boy in for a slow, careful kiss.

And at once a warm, liquid feeling seems to wash throughout his body, beginning where their lips touch and spreading right down to his toes. It isn't a deep kiss by any means, but it dizzies Atsushi all the same. The kiss seems to drag on forever as they stand there on the corner, but all at once Atsushi withdraws and turns on his heel without a word. He hurries into the station and takes the train home while Hisashi stands there on the sidewalk, struck dumb and struggling to process what just happened.

He gets home and avoids the living room where his mother is folding clothes, the kitchen where his brother is pouring a glass of water, and sequesters himself in his bedroom, leaning against the door and breathing hard in the wake of what he's done. He doesn't know what possessed himself to do that, to _kiss_ him, and he could kick himself for being so rash in his actions.

Atsushi waits until he's behind the locked door of his room before checking his phone, but it takes a few minutes longer before he receives a stream of punctuation from Hisashi, and it makes him smile a little despite himself. _I'll see you tomorrow_ , he replies, something like a promise, and that night when he sinks into bed it's anticipation twisting in his stomach instead of guilt.

They don't see each other until homeroom because Hisashi, surprising no one, arrives late, but when he enters the room and their eyes meet Atsushi's heart skips a heavy beat. They're subdued in class though, and Hisashi sulks his way through gym class as usual, but by the end of the day they linger side by side in the entryway. Hisashi tells Hidehiko and Yutaka to go ahead without them, and they leave together minutes later, hurrying away from the school grounds in the direction of Hisashi's house.

They've barely made it three blocks before Hisashi is backing Atsushi against a retaining wall and kissing him hard, fingers gripping his shoulders to hold him fast. Atsushi sinks into the kiss with a sigh, reaching up to cup Hisashi's jaw and parting his lips to deepen it. They remain like that until they're short of breath, all flushed cheeks and rumpled uniforms as they draw away for air. Atsushi's bottom lip stings where Hisashi's bitten it, and he runs his tongue over the impression of an eyetooth with a faint, cautious smile, as if he can't quite accept what's just happened.

"I can't believe you didn't say anything for so long," Hisashi says, rounding on him then, and the look Atsushi gives him is one of carefully sculpted confusion. "Oh, yeah right," he continues, rolling his eyes at Atsushi's expression and dragging him in for another clumsy kiss. "Working yourself up like some sort of tragic asshole instead of kissing me, the fucking _nerve_ —"

Atsushi finds laughter welling up inside him then, sudden and against Hisashi's lips as fingers course through his hair. "I'm sorry," he replies, "I just..."

There are a dozen things Atsushi could say, explanations for withdrawing and guarding himself against any semblance of true affection, but Hisashi only shakes his head, leaning into the touch and pressing his lips to the edge of his cheekbone. "Don't worry about it," he murmurs, breath warm against his cheek, "just keep kissing me, alright?"

"That I can do," Atsushi smiles, urging forward to kiss him lightly this time, and when they finally walk back to Hisashi's they're hip to hip. Hisashi pulls him up to his warm, cramped bedroom before Atsushi can even stop to greet his parents, and they fall together against his sagging mattress, kissing until they're dizzy and the sun sinks behind the crooked gap of his curtains.


End file.
